


A Stable Life

by LittleLalaith



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Nanny, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canonical Character Death, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Godfather Geralt, M/M, Nanny Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28169607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLalaith/pseuds/LittleLalaith
Summary: When Calanthe and Eist are killed in a car accident, Geralt becomes her sole guardian. However, he has never looked after children before and is more than a little daunted by the task. Thankfully, Jaskier is more than happy to offer his support, and if feelings spark between the Nanny and his employer, then so be it...CW: References to the death of Calanthe and Eist, depictions of mourning
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 53
Kudos: 199





	1. Prologue

Geralt had been many things in his life: a son, an orphan, a foster kid, a student, a lawyer, a gym partner, a lover. What Geralt hadn’t expected was to become a father. More specifically, he had never imagined that he would become the legal guardian of his godchild - Ciri. When he had accepted Calanthe’s offer to be Ciri’s godfather almost a decade prior, he had assumed that it would be mostly an honorary title - Calanthe was younger than him, healthy, and well-off. If anyone was likely to end up in an early grave, it was Geralt; between his high-risk equestrian sports, his long work weeks and his insomnia, he just assumed that Calanthe would outlast him by several decades. Naturally, when he had accepted the title, he had understood what it meant to be a godfather and the responsibilities that he would be required to take on if Calanthe and Eist both passed, but it had seemed like such an unlikely possibility. Impossible, when he considered the likelihood. And yet…

The car accident had killed Eist outright, Calanthe following a few hours later despite the best efforts of the surgeons. Ciri was an orphan, and Geralt was her godfather… 

She had been at school when it happened and, as her new guardian and a familiar friend of the family, Geralt had been tasked with breaking the bad news. He had driven to the school and walked the colourful corridors, looking in at the classes of tiny children as he passed. It felt wrong; everything was too bright, too small. Tragedy didn’t belong in a place like this… He was nonsensically scared that the grief would seep into the crepe paper displays and drain them of colour, that his hurt would cast black splotches over the felt-tip artwork. So, he had taken Ciri outside to the park instead and tried to let her down gently. She had sensed something was wrong, the absurdity of the situation planting the first seeds of worry in her mind. Someone was taking her out of class, so it had to be important, and that person was not her parents; maybe she had suspected what Geralt would say, even as they pulled up to the empty park and chose a bench near the swings.

Geralt’s profession had given him a lot of practice when it came to sharing bad news, but never like this. Not to a child. Not when his heart was breaking too. Calanthe had been like a sister to him, both of them having worked their way through the ruthless battlefield of law school and employment side by side. They studied together, qualified together, and had been employed at the same place for a time before Calanthe’s promotion to Partner at a different firm. And yet, as heavy as her loss was on Geralt’s chest, it didn’t come anywhere close to the connection that she had shared with Ciri. He couldn’t begin to imagine how Ciri was feeling… but he had a good idea. Which was why he was so determined to do right by her, to make sure she had a safe and loving home despite everything that had happened.

Ciri had just looked at him when he gave her the awful news, those impossibly blue eyes scanning his features for some kind of trick. He had waited, letting the words sink in to her innocent, young heart. She hadn’t cried, not at first, that would come later - but she had shakily shifted her weight so that she could tuck herself into the broad expanse of Geralt’s side. 

“What happens now?” she had asked, her voice so small, just like the hands that clutched Geralt’s sleeve. 

“You’ll come to live with me, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re looked after,” he had promised. He owed it to Calanthe, to Eist. Ciri was his only link to them now, and she deserved the best life that Geralt could provide for her.

There were a lot of big changes in those early days. Geralt knew that he wouldn’t be able to take proper care of his new ward while working his usual 50+ hour weeks at the legal firm, so he had negotiated a soft retirement with the board of directors; he would stay on the books as a specialist consultant but reduced his hours to a freelance hourly wage. It would allow him to dedicate his day to looking after Ciri, while also earning additional income throughout the evenings and school terms. It had been hard. While his work often caused more than its fair share of stress and despite having earned him a reputation for being a ‘heartless’ shark, it had been something he really cared about. He had wanted to make a difference to the world, to take down some of the monsters who lurked in the dark, preying on the innocent. It was frustrating to leave it all behind but this was more important. Much more important.

And, of course, there had been the issue of Ciri’s living situation. When Calanthe changed firms, she had moved a few hours drive away, and Ciri was enrolled in a school on the other side of the city. Geralt was given the option to live in Calanthe and Eist’s home, raising Ciri there, but his first week at the house had proved too difficult for the young girl. She was reminded of her parents at every turn, surrounded by mundane items that had become uncanny and vulgar without her parents in the house. Calanthe’s suits, Eist’s cologne, photographs along the walls. 

They had tried it for a week, seeing if things would start to feel more normal; but it was no good. Ciri spent almost every night walking into her parent’s room, where Geralt was sleeping, and crawling in at his side; she would cry until the early hours of the morning and would sometimes make herself sick with her grief. There were ghosts in the most everyday items - Eist’s mug held many memories, the coffee machine reminded her of mornings spent together before work and school, even the potted plant that Calanthe usually tended in the hallway. It was no good. She needed somewhere new, somewhere that would allow her to heal.

In the end, Geralt had called Vesemir and asked about the old cabin that he had called his childhood home. When Geralt and the others moved out, Vesemir had stayed on and kept the place liveable, but he was happy for Geralt and Ciri to move in for as long as they needed - he knew how important it was to have a fresh start when something bad happened. Vesemir would move into his ‘winter retreat’ holiday home up North for the foreseeable future, and Geralt and Ciri would have the cabin to themselves. 

Geralt just hoped that this would help Ciri to heal.   
He hoped that he would be a good godfather. 

He supposed that only time would tell.


	2. Chapter 2

As they pulled up to the old log cabin, Geralt heard Ciri utter a small gasp in amazement. Despite its age, Vesemir had taken care to keep the property in good condition: the red wood walls were lovingly sanded and re-treated each year to protect them from the elements; the slate roof was perfectly preserved with neat, unbroken shingles organised in lines; large south-facing windows provided light to the front of the house, decorated with well kept but now empty window boxes. It was a large house with three bedrooms organised around a vast open-plan central living space. While it had the appearance of a ground floor property, Geralt knew that the interior living room was split into a two storey space; Vesemir had contracted builders to install a mezzanine around the edge of the room, turning it into a private library. Everything about the cabin spoke of open space and a simple life filled with simple needs. Most of all, it called forth memories of Geralt’s childhood. 

Geralt remembered playing in the wide open space, him and his two brothers running around while they pretended to be knights or cowboys. Well, brothers by sentiment, rather than blood. He, Eskel and Lambert had all been foster kids before Vesemir took them in and put them to work on the ranch - though in all honesty, the work had been light and they became more like a family than Geralt had ever dared to hope for. It had been good for them, unruly as they were. Vesemir was strict but fair, helping them to overcome their anger and recklessness with honest work and fair treatment. He hoped that Ciri would be able to find the same kind of peace here. 

"Here we are; our new home," he announced, taking in the sight of the cabin and the vast grounds.

"It's so big," Ciri breathed, leaning up against the dashboard to get a better look. "We have this place all to ourselves?"

"Yup, just me and you," Geralt answered, then figured that wasn't strictly true. "...And the horses."

Ciri's eyes lit up and she looked to Geralt with the kind of wonder that can only truly be experienced by children. "Horses?"

"Yeah, this is a ranch, after all," Geralt chuckled, getting out of the car and walking around to help Ciri out. "Vesemir keeps our show horses here, when we're not competing. Otherwise, he leases them to people who want to learn to ride. Sometimes he breeds them, if there's a demand for foals, but mostly he just keeps them for the comfort of having them, I think. That, and the joy of riding. Have you ever ridden a horse, Ciri?"

The young girl shook her head fervently, instinctively reaching for Geralt's hand as they approached the house. She was growing more comfortable around Geralt now, her timidity and quietness melting into something more like companionship and trust. Granted, she still wasn't the most talkative child in the world, but that suited Geralt; he wasn't much of a talker either. But he could see her trust in the little gestures she exhibited - the way she gripped his hand when she was unsure of something, or how she chose the seat beside him on the sofa instead of the separate armchair when she was reading. She was a good kid, but Geralt was still braced for the infamous temper that Calanthe had talked about in the past. He knew that it would rear its head eventually; he just hoped that he would be able to handle it when it inevitably happened. 

“You do horse competitions?” Ciri asked, her eyebrows drawn tight together as she tried to figure out what a riding contest would look like. “Like horse racing?”

“Some people do horse racing, sure - my brother, Lambert, likes the flat ground races but I don’t think he rides much anymore. Me and my other brother, Eskel, we prefer show jumping.” Geralt explained. “It’s where you ride around a set of jumps and try to go over them faster than anyone else.”

Ciri made a little ‘hm’ sound and nodded, processing the new information. Geralt wondered whether she’d ever seen a real horse up close. From what he understood of Ciri’s life so far, she’d never really spent much time out of the city; only for a few holidays or maybe visiting other cities with Calanthe when she was working a high profile case. It seemed strange to him, that someone might reach ten years of age without ever seeing a horse. But he supposed that was just his privilege showing - he had been born to the countryside, had grown up breathing in the scents of summer and spring, foraging for dandelions and hawthorn when they explored the woods. He couldn’t imagine a childhood contained within the concrete confines of the city. It seemed too stiff, too monochromatic. 

"Tell you what, we'll take a little look around the house and you can choose which bedroom you want. Then, me and you will go and see to the horses," Geralt suggested. "I'll bring our bags and suitcases through while you pick out the best room.."

Ciri nodded, a new little skip appearing in her step. Geralt smiled, relieved to see her happy for a little while - it was the first time he’d seen her truly relaxed. This house was the change they both needed, he was sure of it. Away from the stresses of the city, given space to breathe and heal without having to deal with well-wishers and fussy nieghbours. Besides, the countryside offered up a whole host of therapeutic distractions for Ciri while she healed; full of wildness and beauty in equal measure. He wanted her to experience it all, to breathe in the oxygen-rich air and feel dew-damped grass between her toes. Geralt wanted to show her the wonders that lurked in the world around them, the beauty and strength of nature. Call him an old romantic, but a part of him had never really left the country. It was his home, even in the coldest winter or the driest summer, regardless of how long he spent cooped up in the office-block cage of the city - it was where he grew up, where he had discovered his potential, where he had found his family. He belonged here.

Unlocking the door, he swung it open and felt a wave of nostalgia. A large stone hearth stood sentinel in the center of the room, a collection of dark leather and redwood sofas gathered around it; on the ground just in front of the fire was a huge, white-sheepskin rug (still sporting a small faded pink stain where Lambert’s nose had bled one night). The walls were sanded wood, giving the place an earthy, natural smell. Behind the hearth, large wooden steps led up to the mezzanine and the plethora of books that Vesemir had collected over the years. To him, it was a comforting and familiar sight. But he could see the impressive architecture annew when he looked into Ciri’s wonder-struck face. 

Ciri gawped at the grandiose home, her eyes wide. She walked as though entranced, running her pale hand over the back of a sofa, over the oak table. She hesitated for a moment, running back to the door to kick off her shoes, then she tested the rug under her bare feet. With her gaze tilted upwards, she spun in a slow circle, following the walkway of the mezzanine with her gaze. When she finally lowered her head, her eye caught on the reading corner and she grinned.

"Geralt, what's this?" she asked, walking over to the suspended wicker egg-chair.

Geralt chuckled and gestured for her to climb into it. "This is the reading corner. I'm probably way too heavy for the chair now, so you can use it whenever you like. Vesemir put it here because this corner gets the most light during the day; more time for reading."

He steadied the chair as Ciri got comfortable, then set it swinging gently. Ciri was smiling openly now, giving Geralt a glimpse of the happy child she had been just a few months before. It was reassuring, like he was doing something right.

"Go on, have a look around and see which room you want. I'll start getting some of the bags in."

Ciri clambered out of the chair and started towards the corridor that led to the bedrooms, but she hesitated. Geralt frowned slightly as he watched her think something over, and was surprised when she hugged him briefly; her arms half-wrapping around his hips. "Thank you for bringing me here, Geralt. It's beautiful."

Before he could answer, she was hurrying away but her words lingered in his mind, warming his heart. He could do this. He could give Ciri a good life, could help her to heal from the traumas she'd faced. However hard things got, and he knew that there inevitably would be hard times along the way, it would be worth it to see her happy.

Geralt steadied the chair again and went back to the car, bringing their bags and cases through to the front hall. They would move the bedroom boxes around once she'd picked out a room, and Geralt would either go back to the room he'd shared with Eskel as a kid, or he'd take Vesemir's room if Ciri wanted his old one. Hell, he'd have let her claim the huge living room as her bedroom if she'd asked for it. Whatever she needed to feel secure, he would provide for her. She was going to be spoiled rotten and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. She had been through a lot.

As Geralt was bringing the last of the bags through, Ciri walked over and touched his sleeve to get his attention. "Geralt, can I have the room that looks out onto the stables?"

Lambert's old room; it was a good choice. "Of course you can, Ciri. That room stays really cool in the summer because it’s at the back of the house, and the view is pretty cool, huh? Just to warn you though, the horses sometimes make noises at night, so don't be frightened if you hear something weird in the dark. If it spooks you too much, then you can always change your mind and pick another room later."

"I won't be scared," Ciri announced plainly, and Geralt believed her. She had grown up with the sounds of the city for her lullaby, full of taxi horns and party-goers. By comparison, a few midnight whinnies and wickers wouldn’t bother her much. 

"Alright then. Want to go and meet them?"

Ciri nodded enthusiastically and pulled Geralt eagerly towards the door. He laughed and guided her around the outside of the house, pointing out the large oak tree that shaded the house and stables from the worst of the summer sun. There was a wooden climbing frame that Vesemir had built for the boys when they were young, still looking as sturdy and well-kept as when it had first been constructed. This place held so many memories, so many of them happy. He wanted to add more memories to the fixtures and furnishings here, happy memories that Ciri would be able to look back on when she was older too. Geralt’s thoughts were disrupted as they rounded the corner of the house and were met with the curious chuffs and wickers of the horses. 

"Don't get too excited, it's just me," he called to the horses, feeling oddly proud when Roach stuck her head out of the stable to greet him. Her glossy brown coat was well brushed and her mane hung neatly against her neck; she whinnied brightly, causing Ciri to falter in her step. "It's ok, this is Roach. Here..."

Geralt opened his arms a little in a silent offer, asking Ciri if she'd like to be picked up. She stepped into his reach, allowing Geralt to lift her up to Roach's face and extending a small hand to stroke the long expanse of the horse's nose. 

“Roach is my horse, then we have Scorpion, which is Eskel’s.” Geralt explained, walking over to the next stable so that Ciri could see the pure black thoroughbred. Scorpion was a beautiful creature, full of power and grace - what he lacked in speed, he firmly made up for in control and tight manoeuvrability. Whenever Geralt and Eskel raced against each other at the equestrian events, it was always a close call for first place.

“Why did you name your horses after bugs?” Ciri asked, pulling a face. 

“A roach is a fish,” Geralt protested, bringing Ciri up to sit on his shoulders. “She’s the smallest out of the horses, and a roach is a small fish. Sometimes known as a ‘small fry’, see?”

Ciri laughed lightly, “That’s silly.”

“The naming of horses is never silly.”

“What’s this one called?” Ciri asked, pointing to the next stable. 

Geralt walked Ciri over to the next stall, where Vesemir’s old mare stood amiably at the door. She was a dark grey, with spattered patches of black threading her hind quarters and back. Seeing new company, the old nag poked her head out and shoved her nose companionably into Geralt’s chest; he laughed and scratched the fur between her eyes. “This is Dusk, she’s getting on in years but she still likes riding from what Vesemir tells me.”

Ciri looked around the courtyard and the riding ring, breathing in the sawdust musk of the horses. “Geralt, do you think I could have a horse too?”

Geralt smiled, glad to see that she was embracing the ranch lifestyle. It would be expensive to buy her a pony, but it was an expense that Geralt could afford if she really wanted one. He hadn’t worked his ass off for the last twenty years, pitching in for 10-12 hour days, for nothing. He had enough money to live comfortably, even if he didn’t pick up any new cases. But he was also careful; he wanted to be sure that this was something she enjoyed before putting too much investment in. 

“I’ll make you a deal,” he offered. “If you help me to keep the stables clean and the horses brushed, then I’ll ask the local riders whether they know anyone selling a pony. In the meantime, you can ride Roach. She’s a bit big for you, but she’s gentle. And I’ll be right at your side to make sure you don’t fall off, ok?”

Ciri nodded, awkwardly hugging Geralt’s head. “Thank you Geralt.”


	3. Chapter 3

For a time, things were good at the Kaer Morhen cabin. Ciri slowly found her footing in her strange new dwellings, and Geralt found himself relaxing into the familiar backdrop of his childhood home. They ate together at the kitchenette counter, read to each other next to the open fire, sharing stories and jokes. But there were times when Ciri drew back into herself, grief and loss stealing the smile from her young features and leaving her bereft. She cried alone in her room, muffling her wails into the flesh of her teddy’s stomach, and Geralt wasn’t sure how to comfort her. He had tried to knock for her, but was met with shouts of ‘go away’ or ‘leave me alone’ -so he had obeyed, pacing restlessly through the house, fussing and tidying until she reappeared an hour later with red eyes and a forced smile, asking if they could go for a walk. 

Ciri sometimes wandered without telling him where she was going, insisted on going to see the horses without supervision, and on one occasion, Geralt had found her climbing the large oak tree without anything to break her fall. He knew that children were curious, that they were adventurous… but he didn’t know where to draw the line. Granted, he and his brothers had been little shits in their youth and had done many of these things on a daily basis, but it made him worry all the same. 

Ciri was his responsibility; he needed to ensure she was safe. If she got lost in the woods, there was no-one else to help her. At least when Geralt had wandered, he had Eskel or Lambert at his side. Which brought him to another issue - friends. Ciri was alone here, with no-one but Geralt for company, and he wasn’t able to give her the same kind of companionship that children her own age would be able to give. He didn’t have a child’s imagination, he couldn’t match her energy. But the nearest town was a few miles East and the ‘local’ school was further still. She would need to go back to school eventually, but he was reluctant to push her back into her studies so soon after losing her parents. She needed time to heal, to settle into this new life with Geralt as her guardian. But how else would she make friends?

There was also the new surplus of chores that needed tending… although Ciri was only one small child, she generated a lot of laundry. Between her horse riding (which she had taken to with a passion), tree climbing, exploring in the woods and her occasional arts and crafts projects, she barely had enough clothes to match her demanding needs. Plus there were more dishes to clean, more things to tidy away, more books to organise onto shelves, mud to clean from the floor when she came in from her travels. Geralt had tried to keep on top of it, he really had… but he didn’t know how to properly manage a home like this. Vesemir had done all of this domestic management behind their backs, clearing away their debris and carnage while they were out playing. But without friends to occupy her time, Ciri was constantly demanding Geralt’s attention, which meant less time to sort out the house.

By small degrees, the house grew messier and less organised. Clothes that were torn on branches were placed aside to be taken to a tailor, their dinners being ordered in from take-out restaurants with increasing frequency, things getting lost in the clutter on each surface. And when Ciri’s temper got the better of her, when she missed her parents or when Geralt did something differently to the way she was accustomed to, those trinkets and pieces of bric-a-brac would go flying across the room. Such a quiet girl when she was calm, but she seemed to always be holding a hurricane at bay just beneath the surface. 

In the end, Geralt had no choice. While Ciri was out in the fields, collecting small pebbles and treasures, Geralt contacted a local directory for recommendations on child-care professionals. He felt awful as he took down a few numbers, failure curdling in his gut. He wasn’t able to give her the stability she craved, the discipline she needed. Any attempts to get her helping around the house was met with tears or tantrums, any request for her to stay indoors was disobeyed. And if he grounded her then she snuck off all the same… She was a law unto herself, full of wild reasoning and defiant logic. He needed help. If he could just learn from someone who knew about these things, then he could begin to give Ciri the kind of childhood she deserved. That was all he wanted.

Starting with the first name on the list, Geralt made enquiries about hourly rates and qualifications, conducting informal interviews with a number of nannies and child-minders. The first had been too formal, demanding to make a home visit and permission to conduct some sort of evaluation of Ciri’s behaviour before she would entertain the idea of minding the child. The second had been retired, and the third had moved abroad to teach. The fourth had been promising, a more senior sounding woman named Nenneke; she was available on an hourly basis and had a flexible schedule. She had proposed a few half-day sessions ‘pro bono’ so that she could meet Ciri, getting to know her a little before becoming a fully paid nanny. In all honesty, Geralt liked the way she talked about children, her enthusiasm for giving them a safe but engaging homelife. She sounded almost perfect, the only issue was that she had mentioned a keen interest in introducing children to religion. Geralt could always nip that idea in the bud when she started, but it was something that made him a little uneasy. As an atheist, he didn’t much like the idea of Ciri being guided into a belief system that she hadn’t personally chosen. But she had been the most promising lead so far.

For the sake of fairness and closing off any potential doubts about whether the last choice could have been better, Geralt rang the last number on the list. He was fairly sure that he would call Nenneke back and arrange a meeting as soon as he was done talking to the last candidate, but it just put his conscience to rest if he gave all of the potential child-minders a chance. In the end, he was glad that he did. 

“You’re through to Jaskier, how can I help?” came a cheerful greeting. The voice on the other end of the line was cheerful, touched with a soft accent that Geralt couldn’t quite identify. Newcastle? Manx? Whatever it was, it was soft and musical, lending a little bounce to his words. 

“Hi, I was given your number by a local directory. Am I right in thinking you offer child-care services?” Geralt asked, his own voice sounding overly formal, stinted. 

“I do indeed,” Jaskier replied, his tone confident. He had the kind of voice that let you trust easily, too expressive to hide lies. “I’ve recently been employed by the Stael family but their little one’s aren’t so little anymore, so we parted ways. Good news for you though, because it means I have full availability. Mornings, afternoons, evenings, weekdays, weekends- whatever you need. I even offer a live-in service if you need a more robust arrangement.”

Geralt made a note below the number he’d been given, marking down Jaskier’s name and availability. That kind of flexibility was definitely an advantage, and a small part of him liked the idea of a live-in child-minder. He doubted they would need that kind of commitment, but it was reassuring to know that he would be able to call on Jaskier whenever he was needed. 

“How many children do you have, Mister...um…” Jaskier continued.

“Oh, sorry. My name’s Geralt, and I just have the one. It’s a bit of an unusual situation…” he started, wanting to give his prospective child-minders a little warning. “Ciri’s parents recently passed away, so she’s come to live with me indefinitely. I’m her godfather, rather than a blood relative and… well, things have been kind of difficult. We’re still working through a lot of ‘teething pains’ while we adjust.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Jaskier offered kindly, his voice soft. “I can only imagine how hard that must be for you both.”

“Thank you,” Geralt replied instinctively, but he noticed that Jaskier had extended the condolences to him too. While the other two potential carers had understandably focused on Ciri’s grief, Jaskier had made the connection that Geralt must have been close to Ciri’s parents too. It was a small thing, but it felt important. Vesemir had always said that you could see the measure of a person by the small things they did, and so far, Jaskier was proving to be a very considerate and socially capable carer. “It’s been tough but we’re doing our best to make things work. Trouble is, we’re kind of isolated out here and it’s just me and Ciri at the house, so we’re finding it hard to balance friendly company and a parent-child kind of relationship. It’s just getting out of hand quickly and I need some help keeping on top of everything.”

“Kids need a lot of attention, and housework does too, right?” Jaskier laughed softly, not mocking but inviting Geralt into the joke. He was intuitive, friendly. “Is Ciri enrolled at school at the moment, or are you home schooling until she settles?”

Geralt flinched slightly and made a note to figure out how he could do some home-schooling with Ciri so that she didn’t fall behind in her classes. In truth, he hadn’t even thought about home-schooling. He had been so overwhelmed by caring for her, that he hadn’t really had time to consider things like education or extra-curricular clubs. 

“Uh… neither at the moment. I guess I just wanted to get her settled before forcing her back into a routine like that. The stress of starting a new school, meeting all those new people…” Geralt answered sheepishly.

Jaskier made a sound of agreement, “That’s understandable. I’m not a qualified teacher, so I’m afraid I can’t really offer a full home-schooling programme. But I’d be more than happy to work out a bit of a schedule with you and we can fit some learning into Ciri’s day. It doesn’t have to be anything too stuffy or text-book heavy; we could schedule nature walks and talk about biology, or visit museums to learn about history. That kind of stuff. But I’m getting way ahead of myself, sorry. Did you have any questions for me?”

Geralt chuckled warmly, liking Jaskier’s enthusiasm. “It’s ok, we can work all that stuff out later. Do you mind if I ask about your credentials?”

“Of course,” Jaskier answered agreeably. “I can provide glowing references from the Stael family and Ms Brandyford. I can also provide references from the Willoughby Foster Care Home, where I volunteer when I’m not working privately.”

The foster home… Well, now that was a topic close to Geralt’s heart. He wondered how much the old care home had changed since his youth, whether some of the old workforce still haunted the halls. He wanted to ask Jaskier what it was like now, whether they still forced the children to read the gospels on Sundays, or whether they ever found the key to the storage shed at the bottom of the garden. But that was a conversation to have in person, maybe over a drink when the evening was closing in. 

“Those would be great, I can give you an email address to send those over to. Do you have any formal qualifications?” Geralt asked, and he heard the sudden tenseness in Jaskier’s tone. Embarrassed, rather than defensive.

“Not as such… I have a first aid certification and my food hygiene certificate but I don’t have any college or university degrees,” he answered honestly. “But I do have twelve years of childcare experience and I’ve attended a lot of online seminars about child development.”

The second half of the answer came out fast, more desperate. It spoke volumes to Geralt’s trained ear - he had learned to read tone, body language, to notice word choices and omissions. It had been part of his job as a prosecutor, finding weak spots to push so that he could get confessions. And right now, Jaskier’s tone was telling him a whole story that was filled with rejection, hardship and hard work. Luckily for Jaskier, Geralt was a big believer in practical learning and he knew that a decade of practice was better than a decade of book-based study. 

“That’s pretty impressive,” Geralt said sincerely, giving Jaskier a subtle indication that he could relax. It was ok. “If you don’t mind me asking, Jaskier, how old are you? You sound young to have that much experience.”

When Jaskier spoke again, his tone was smoother, reassured. “I started working for Ms Brandyford when I was 18, looking after her daughter when she finished school, preparing meals and doing homework with her until Ms Brandyford finished work at 8pm. Eventually I started picking up more hours with her on weekends, some in the morning if she needed someone to take her daughter to school. Stayed with her for four years, then started employment with the Stael family as a live-in carer. Been there the last eight years, but their youngest is sixteen this winter, so they didn’t really need me around anymore. So, here I am. Fresh faced at 30 and ready to help another family in any way that I can.”

Thirty, that was an encouraging age, not so young that he was naive or inexperienced, but still young enough to have the energy needed to keep up with an energetic child like Ciri. Even though Geralt was only a decade older, he had been exhausted by his demanding career and he had never considered himself to be a particularly ‘peppy’ individual, even in his youth. Now, free of his usual workload, he felt busier and more exhausted than ever. 

“Ciri can be… willful. But I can’t argue with 12 years of experience,” Geralt reasoned, distractedly circling Jaskier’s name on the notepad. “Would you be able to come to the cabin tomorrow so we can discuss a schedule and your hourly rate?”

Geralt caught a relieved breath on the other side of the phone, marking the polite keenness in Jaskier’s voice when he answered. “That would be wonderful. Just give me a place and time.”


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt gave Jaskier the address and agreed to meet him at 10am the next morning. It gave Geralt a time to get up and wrangle Ciri into some kind of presentable outfit before the potential new child-minder showed up. As he hung up, he looked around the house and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Oh god, it was a total mess. And not just the ‘kids live here’ kind of mess that Geralt had seen in the homes of some of his clients, but the ‘no-one has control here’ kind of mess that he was more accustomed to seeing in the homes of the struggling or desperate. There were dishes piled in the sink, laundry piled on the sofa or next to the washing machine, the ironing basket overflowing onto the floor, and snack packets littering the table near the hearth.Just looking at it made him feel exhausted. 

He debated cleaning it up before Jaskier arrived the following morning, but that would mean staying up half the night to make everything presentable. And a small part of him reasoned that Jaskier should know the full extent of what he was getting himself into. After all, this was not an organised house. Geralt did not have a neat and tidy hold of the situation. If he was being perfectly and completely honest, he needed help. So, sighing, he settled on a compromise. He would get Ciri settled for the night and then he would do a bit of cleaning; but only as much as he would ordinarily do. Just to make it look presentable, but with enough honesty left on the tabletops so that Jaskier knew what he was dealing with. 

As he stood up, walking over to the kitchenette to make coffee, he was met with a sour-faced Ciri standing in the doorway to the corridor. He frowned, wondering what had gotten her into such a foul mood at this time of the afternoon. 

“Hey Ciri, I thought you were collecting pebbles in the field,” he greeted, mildly concerned that he hadn’t heard her come in. Jesus, he needed to get better at supervising her, otherwise he was going to get into a world of trouble.

“I came back for a drink, and I heard you talking on the phone,” She answered, her tone stubborn. Geralt braced himself, not wanting this to turn into some kind of shouting match or tantrum.

“Yeah, I was just calling a few local child-care people to see if someone can come and give us a hand at the cabin,” he answered honestly. He didn’t want to lie to her, especially since Jaskier would be here tomorrow and there would be no hiding it. It was better just to get it all out in the open and allow her to form an opinion on the situation. “A gentleman called Jaskier is going to come and visit tomorrow so that we can get to know him a little better, see if maybe he can help us to get settled.”

Ciri’s lips pursed together and her eyes seemed to sparkle with something halfway between anger and pain. Uh oh. Geralt had fucked up…. He didn’t know how, or what it was specifically that had upset her, but he could see her jaw tightening as she chewed on the words. “You don’t want to look after me, do you?”

Geralt blinked and immediately crouched to her level, placing a hand on her arm. She tugged it away sharply, her lip wobbling despite her best efforts to stay angry. 

“Ciri, of course I want to look after you. That’s not why I called him. I’m just not very good at being a parent yet,” he tried to explain, gesturing around the room. “The house is messy and I can’t give you enough attention when I’m trying to clean it, and I don’t know how to cook anything except spaghetti bolognese or curry. I just… I want to be a better godfather. And Jaskier is going to show me how to do that.”

Ciri considered this for a long moment, sniffling as she weighed up his words. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, sweetheart. Not even a little bit,” he answered. 

Eventually, Ciri nodded and allowed herself to be pulled into a hug, reluctantly rubbing her cheek against Geralt’s shoulder. “But you’re not going back to work, right?”

“No, I’ll be right here. I’ve retired, so I won’t ever go back to the office for cases. I might sometimes work on a case in the evenings or when you go back to school, but I’ll always be at the house,” he explained, stroking her hair. “My priority is being here with you. Even if they called me tomorrow and offered me a million bucks to work a case at the office, I’d tell them no. You’re the most important part of my life now.”

Ciri nodded again, wiping her nose in her sleeve (more washing, Geralt thought grimly). “Ok… because when Mum and Dad went to work, they left me with a child-minder too. And I hated it. I don’t want a stupid babysitter. I want….”

The tears started in earnest now, fat and hot against Geralt’s shoulder. He could feel the way her body hitched and heaved with each sob as sorrow poured out anew from her perfect blue eyes. He held her tighter, moving to sit cross-legged on the floor and guiding her into his lap. She clung to him weakly, her tiny fingers kneading at his shirt as she worked her way through the sadness - Geralt didn’t know what to say, how to help. All he could do was hold her and wait for the crying to stop. Eventually, she exhausted herself and breathed raggedly against his chest. 

“I want Mum and Dad…” she eventually croaked, and Geralt’s heart broke a little more.

“I know, Ciri. And I’m so sorry…” he said quietly, not knowing how he could possibly make this better. He couldn’t bring Calanthe or Eist back, he couldn’t go back in time and stop the accident from happening. All he could do was sit with Ciri and make sure she didn’t come to any harm. Hopefully, if he could get some help from Jaskier, he would do a good enough job that Ciri wouldn’t need years of therapy to recover from his shitty efforts. But for now, he was here, and maybe that was enough. Just for now. “Ciri, I won’t leave you on your own. I promise. When you go to school, I’ll be right here if you need me; waiting here when you come home. In the middle of the night, if dreams turn to nightmares, I’ll always be right there in my room. Ok? No matter what happens, I’ll be here to help you.”

Ciri tried to get control of her breathing, her inhalations coming in shaky gasps. Geralt tried to help her by rhythmically stroking her back, encouraging her to match her breathing to the timing of his hand. When she finally calmed down and got control of her breathing, Geralt looked down at her and wiped away some of the wetness from her cheek with his thumb. 

“Jaskier is going to be here tomorrow at 10 o’clock, I think you’ll like him. He’s worked with a few other families in the past, and he sounds like he knows what he’s doing. Do you think we can give him a chance?”

Ciri looked down, processing everything that was about to change. So much change, such big changes and all of them coming in quick succession. But she nodded and wiped at her eyes firmly. “Yeah, ok. I’ll be friendly and try to be good.”

“Thank you, Ciri. That means a lot to me,” Geralt smiled, brushing her hair back affectionately. “Do you want some ice cream to cheer you up a bit?”

Ice cream was never going to heal the hole that had been left in Ciri’s life when her parents died, he knew that. But these little treats might help, at least in the short run. Ciri got out of his lap and tried to pull Geralt up, helping him to get the sprinkle to syrup ratio just right when he prepared the ice cream.


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning, Geralt woke Ciri up and made sure she was washed and dressed before Jaskier arrived. He knew that their new nanny wasn’t exactly an agent from social services, but he was still coming into their home and making a judgement on the way Geralt was managing the situation. If things went completely south, Jaskier would be within his right to call social services all the same. Not that it would come to that… right? Geralt shook the anxious thought aside and tried to keep himself busy, clearing some of the surfaces as best as he could while Ciri practiced handstands against one of the smooth sides of the hearth. 

As 10am drew close, Geralt heard the crunch and scuffle of footsteps on the gravel path. He peered out of the kitchen window and was pleasantly surprised by Jaskier’s appearance as he ambled up the driveway. If he hadn’t already told Geralt that he was thirty, the ex-solicitor would have assumed that he was in his early twenties; his features were so youthful, so bright with a zest for life that so few carried into their adult years. With a shock of chestnut hair and pale, clear skin, he whistled cheerily as he approached the house; he was wearing rich green cotton trousers with a white shirt and jacket, smart but practical. It was a good look… Geralt smiled and raised a hand in greeting as Jaskier spotted him at the window. 

Walking to the front door, Geralt offered a smile and extended his hand. “You must be Jaskier, come on in.”

Jaskier clasped his hand firmly in both of his own as he shook it, an odd gesture but an undoubtedly friendly one. Familiar and warm. “Nice to meet you, Geralt. Your house is incredible!” 

“Thank you, it’s actually my foster father’s house, but he’s letting us stay here for as long as we need. He’s got another property up north.” Geralt explained, looking around to see where Ciri had disappeared to. She had deserted her spot beside the hearth and Geralt had a terrible feeling that she’d slunk off somewhere to avoid meeting her new child-minder. He sighed and walked further into the room so that he could look down the corridors, but as he turned, he spotted Ciri carrying a heavy teapot from the kitchenette to the table. He hurried to her side, gently taking the hot crockery from her before she could cause herself an injury. “Thanks Ciri, that’s very thoughtful of you. Could you get the cups please?”

Ciri pouted a little at having the teapot taken from her, but she did as she was told and took three cups over to the table, placing them delicately on the coasters that Geralt had laid out. Jaskier smiled, charmed by the little display of domesticity. “Hi Ciri, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Jaskier.”

“That’s a weird name,” Ciri said bluntly, and Geralt bit back a groan. Thankfully, Jaskier laughed and shrugged one of his broad shoulders. 

“Well, not so much ‘weird’ as it is ‘Polish’,” he winked. “It means Buttercup.”

Ciri pulled a face that was part grin and part incredulity, looking at this new and interesting stranger with a renewed interest. “But buttercup isn’t a name either.”

“It is if you’re called Jaskier,” the child-minder countered, taking a seat on the sofa so that he was positioned at a right angle to where Geralt and Ciri had sat. “What about Ciri? Is that short for anything?”

“Cirilla,” Ciri answered, a touch of pride in her voice. “I don’t really know what it means though. It’s just a name. But I prefer Ciri, if that’s ok. I’m only Cirilla when I’m in trouble.”

“Ciri it is. It’s a beautiful name,” Jaskier complimented, settling his weight comfortably in the seat. 

Geralt liked that, the way he made himself comfortable. There was nothing more frustrating than trying to talk to someone who sat at the edge of their seat, as though they were waiting for the first chance to leave. But Jaskier was so calm, so easy to talk to. He had fallen into conversation with them as though he had known them for weeks rather than minutes. Geralt poured some of the tea that Ciri had made, realising too late that it was exceptionally milky and had been sweetened within an inch of its life. He offered Jaskier a cup with a faint look of apology. 

“Ciri made the tea herself,” Geralt pseudo-praised, not wanting Jaskier to think that this was the only kind of tea that would be available in the house. 

“Well, aren’t you the little hostess,” Jaskier smiled, taking a sip of the tea and putting up a pretty impressive poker face. “So, what kind of thing would you like me to help with around here?”

Geralt looked to Ciri, encouraging her to give her ideas. They had talked about it briefly the night before and Geralt had asked Ciri to think of a few things that she might want help with, or something that she wanted to do if they had more time to spend together. Ciri folded her hands in her lap, taking this all very seriously. It was adorable, seeing her act more mature than her age. 

“Well, Geralt isn’t very good at doing lots of things at the same time. Like he isn’t good at reading to me and also keeping the kitchen tidy. Or tending to the horses and also playing with me in the woods. So if you could play with me when Geralt is busy cleaning, then that would be good,” she explained, her tone matter-of-fact and just a little over-confident, giving away her bluff. Geralt knew that this was hard for her, letting another new person into her life when she was already so uprooted from her past. But she was making a good effort and that was all Geralt could ask of her. “And if you can teach Geralt how to cook something that isn’t pasta, that would also be good.”

Jaskier took a small notebook from his pocket and jotted the ideas down, listening to Ciri as an equal. At first, Geralt had assumed that Jaskier was just humouring the child, but he could see the child-minder writing down her requests in full, making a few little notes underneath. When he spoke, he made eye contact with Ciri, speaking with her directly. It was a surprisingly nice touch, and something that Geralt hadn’t expected. “Alright, I think I can manage that. I’d be more than happy to keep you company while you play outside, or we can work on some crafts together during the day. Whatever you like, really. Then Geralt can keep on top of the house stuff without having to worry.” 

“Exactly,” Ciri agreed, sipping her own tea happily. 

Jaskier made a few little notes and then looked to Geralt, giving him a chance to add to the list if he wanted to. Geralt put his milky sweet tea on the table and considered his answer, not wanting to set Ciri off into one of her tantrums by saying the wrong thing. “Supervision is definitely a key thing, and some emotional support as well. As I explained on the phone, Ciri’s been through a lot lately and I think it would be really beneficial if she could make some friends and have more people to talk to. I don’t mind if you end up having little gossips about me, as long as Ciri has someone she can confide in… I appreciate that kids don’t always want to confide directly with their parents or guardian so… I don’t know, I guess I just want to know that Ciri has someone to help her work through things if she doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Ciri looked to Geralt, smirking mischievously as Geralt opened himself up to a world of bickering and gossip. Maybe that had been a mistake. He made a mental note never to tell Ciri anything in confidence that he wouldn’t want Jaskier finding out.

“Some help around the house would be amazing if you don’t mind doing that kind of thing. I know you’re a child-minder and not a house cleaner so..”

Jaskier shook his head slightly, his fringe swaying cutely with the momentum, “I don’t mind at all. When I worked with the Stael family, I used to help tidy up while the kids were at school. But I was more of a live-in nanny then so I had time on my hands. Either way, I’m happy to help when I have time, but my priority will be on Ciri.”

Geralt liked the sound of that. Jaskier was setting healthy boundaries and managing expectations, stating his priorities and relating the tasks to his experience… he was making a very good first impression and Geralt thought that this might just be part of the natural charismatic air that was Jaskier. Braving the next topic, Geralt tried to keep it as light and vague as possible.

“You mentioned some kind of enrichment learning when we spoke on the phone-” 

Ciri’s gaze snapped to Geralt faster than a cat’s sight on a mouse. Shit. Geralt tried not to pay too much heed, but he could see the start of that telltale pout. He needed to bring the positives into focus, and fast. 

“Going to the museum, hikes in the woods, that kind of thing.”

Ciri eyed him suspiciously, then turned her scrutinizing gaze on Jaskier. The child-minder nodded and placed his cup down too; Geralt noticed that he gestured with his hands as he spoke. “That’s right. Geralt tells me that you’re not in school at the moment, right Ciri?”

Ciri didn’t answer, just narrowed her eyes a little and set her shoulders. Undeterred, Jaskier continued.

“Well, until you go back to school, I thought maybe we could do some fun stuff and maybe squish a bit of learning in there so that your teachers are happy with us when you eventually go back,” he explained, managing to make it sound far less formal than Geralt had been able to. “So we could talk about the different kinds of plants that we find in the woods, or we could visit the old church and see what we can find there to tell us about the past.”

“Like ghosts?” Ciri asked, intentionally steering the topic away from academics. Surprisingly, Jaskier nodded. 

“Oh, we can definitely look for ghosts. And maybe we’ll find some kind of old treasure.”

Placated and satisfied that these trips might not be so much about school after all, Ciri smiled. Her posture relaxed a little and she turned to Geralt, trying to judge his reaction to the ‘less about school’ talk. Geralt nodded, happy to let Jaskier lead the way when it came to that kind of thing. He strongly suspected that Jaskier would plant some sort of historical artifact at the church and then trick Ciri into researching it. Or… not ‘trick’ exactly. But encourage. To show her the ways that you could learn when you weren’t in class. It was clever. 

“So, if we’re going to fit all of this in everyday, what kind of hours would you like me to work?” Jaskier asked, addressing Geralt again now. 

Geralt considered this for a moment, then realised that he kind of wanted as much help as possible. At least, for now, until he could get the hang of managing the house a little better. “How often would you be willing to work? I mean, what’s your maximum limit?” 

Jaskier smiled, flattered by the question. “If you really like, I don’t mind acting as a live-in care assistant. I’d be here 24/7, which would mean that I’d need somewhere to sleep, and I ask for every other sunday off. But other than that, I’d be more than happy to stay here and help out however I can.”

Geralt smiled, feeling oddly relieved. In addition to wanting fully inclusive care for Ciri, he kind of wanted a little company of his own. Since leaving the office, he hadn’t really spoken to anyone except Ciri and the council tax officials. He’d called Eskel one night, but his brother was busy with his own job and hadn’t been able to talk for long. It would be nice to have some other adult company in the house… especially someone as cute as Jaskier. Geralt wasn’t proud of the selfish little voice in his head, but there was no use denying it. He thought Jaskier was attractive, and having him around more often was a positive in his eyes. 

“That actually sounds great. We have a spare bedroom here, so you’re welcome to set it out however you like,” Geralt explained, not sure how to bring up the topic of costs while Ciri was sat next to him. Thankfully, Jaskier had him covered. 

“Perfect, in that case I have a few small requests. Ciri, would you mind checking the spare bedroom for me and seeing if it has a few things on this list? Me and Geralt need to talk about money, which is very boring, so I need you to get the room all pretty for me, ok?” He asked, writing out a list of strange demands. A shell on the windowsill, three different sized rocks to put on the shelf, a book with 550+ pages, a pillowcase with a pattern on it, and a teddy. Ciri looked it over, able to see it for the distraction that it was, but unable to resist the opportunity to impress their new company. 

“Ok, but only because I don’t like maths,” she announced, starting off on her little treasure hunt. 

Geralt smiled, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. “Name your price.”


	6. Chapter 6

Jaskier had been renting from a local landlord with a rolling contract and was happy enough to offer Geralt a discounted price if he could register the house as his official address. In short, Jaskier would live with Geralt and Ciri, rent free and without paying towards bills or food, and expected only a flat rate hourly fee of £5 per hour. Geralt had insisted on paying him £12 per hour for the first month, and £15 per hour from there on in. Jaskier had blanked at this, surprised by the generosity, but he’d gratefully accepted.

All that was left was to move the new nanny into their home. As it happened, Jaskier didn’t have a lot of personal belongings to bring with him. Mostly just clothes and some personal items like photo albums and a handful of books. But the most interesting item was the oddly shaped instrument case that he carried on his back. Ciri spotted it and tugged at Jaskier’s sleeve so that he’d lean down and let her see it. Doing one better, he knelt and took the instrument out of the case, allowing her to hold it and get a closer look.

“It’s like a tiny guitar,” she commented. “Is this a ukulele?” 

Jaskier laughed lightly and shook his head, “Not quite. It’s a lute.”

“What’s a lute?” Ciri asked, strumming her hand over the strings. Geralt tensed slightly, not wanting her to inadvertently break the damn thing. He’d never seen anyone with a lute before but he didn’t imagine that they were cheap. Still, Jaskier didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he helped her to position her fingers on the fretless neck of the instrument and let her strum it again. 

“A lute is like a medieval guitar. People called ‘bards’ used to go around singing songs about heroes and adventures, and they’d often play the lute to sing along to,” he explained. “I really like that part of history, so I take my lute to the renaissance fair and sing for people too.”

Ciri made a small sound of approval and offered the lute back to him, satisfied with his answer. “I’ve never been to a resonance fair,” she announced, and Geralt had to choke back a laugh at her error. For all her fire and sass, she was occasionally too cute for her own good. 

“Well, then. We’ll just have to go together next time. Would you like to be a knight or a princess?” Jaskier asked, popping the lute back into the case and offering her his hand to hold as they walked into the house. 

Geralt watched Ciri lead Jaskier to his room, helping him unpack. He felt like he needed to follow, to try and help somehow. But he would just be hovering. This was what Jaskier was here to do, to keep an eye on Ciri while Geralt got on top of everything else that needed to be done around the house. Still, it was hard not to feel left out. 

Focusing on the kitchen first, Geralt cleared away the dishes that had been left in the rack and finished washing the plates from breakfast, actually taking the time to towel dry them and put them away this time. He emptied the bins and replaced the bags, tidied the cupboard and wrote a shopping list for the following week, and then... well, then he was done. He looked over his work with a little flicker of pride - it wasn't much, he knew that. But it was the first time he'd been able to properly clean a room since moving into the lodge with Ciri, and it felt good to see his childhood home all clean. 

Taking an apple from the fruit bowl, Geralt cut it into even slices and peppered cinnamon on half of them, spreading peanut butter on the rest. If he'd learned anything from his years of working out, it was that some of the tastiest treats could actually be the healthiest; he just hoped that Jaskier felt the same way.

"Snack time," he announced as he approached the bedroom, pushing the door open with his hip. 

Geralt was met with the sight of Jaskier sat cross-legged on the bed, with a selection of scrunchies and bobbles in his hair so that it stuck up at odd angles. In front of him, Ciri was carefully brushing a pale pink varnish onto Jaskier's nail, the tip of her tongue poking out from the side of her mouth as she concentrated. Geralt opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, fighting down a smirk.

"Having fun in here?" Geralt asked.

"Don't give me that look," Jaskier smiled, raising his hand to his lips and blowing delicately on his wet nails. "Ciri is helping me to look like a medieval princess. You have to trust in the process, I assure you that I'll be quite transformed by the end."

"I see, and would Princess Jaskier like an apple slice?"

Ciri secured the lid to her nail varnish and placed it on the nightstand before hurrying to Geralt's side and reaching for a few of the peanut butter covered pieces. Jaskier reviewed the selection for a moment, then took one of each, thanking Geralt as he took a seat on the bed again; his deceptively long legs folding beneath himself neatly. Geralt forced himself to look away, not wanting to ogle the new Manny and potentially scare him off. Instead, he placed the remaining apple slices on the nightstand and took a single cinnamon slice for himself. 

"If you need anything, just come and get me. I'll be tidying up the living room and bathroom," Geralt announced, reassured that Ciri and Jaskier were getting along well.   
For the rest of the afternoon, Geralt could get stuck into the task of cleaning and it felt nice to have a little bit of time to himself. Sure, Ciri wandered off regularly and she sometimes kept her own company in her room, but Geralt was always aware of her, always keeping an ear tuned for her voice to make sure she was ok. With Jaskier at the house, he could just switch off and focus on his tasks, comfortable in the knowledge that she was safe. 

Making the most of the opportunity, Geralt started preparing dinner for the three of them; although it struck him that he had no idea whether Jaskier had any allergies, or whether there were foods that he didn't like... he hoped not, he only knew how to cook about four different dishes. He opted for spaghetti bolognese, figuring that it was probably the least risky option, but cooked the meatballs separately, just in case. He hadn't long started cutting the veg when he heard the other two enter the living room; when he looked up, Geralt was graced with the image of Jaskier swaddled in a spare bedsheet, his face covered in crudely applied make-up and his hair rearranged into a mess of curls and hairclips. Geralt looked him over, bit his tongue and tried not to find the whole thing hilarious. 

"Excuse me, Ma'am, have you seen Jaskier?" Geralt played along, pleased to hear Ciri's mischievous little laugh. 

"Geralt, don't be silly. This is Jaskier," Ciri chided, bringing her empty plate over to the sink. "Do you think he looks pretty?"

Geralt took the opportunity to look at him again, a little in awe of the fact that Jaskier had allowed Ciri to dress him up like this and then had paraded through the house without the slightest hint of embarrassment. Not that he had any reason to be embarrassed, but Geralt knew what the human ego could be like - it was refreshing to meet someone who was willing to completely put that aside to entertain a child. Even in front of his new employer. Besides, to answer Ciri's question, he did think Jaskier was pretty. But that was another thing entirely.

"Very pretty," Geralt agreed sincerely and Ciri took that as a compliment to her work. "Does this princess need a knight to defend the castle?"

"Yup, and I'm gonna be the knight," Ciri answered, and Geralt felt a little let down. Well, so much for that idea. 

"Ah, but you could be the royal chef," Jaskier teased, sitting up on one of the breakfast bar stools. "What culinary delights are we being treated to this evening?"

"Um... spaghetti bolognese?" 

Geralt suddenly worried that it wasn't quite up to standard. He knew that he didn't exactly have to pull out all the stops, but he was always conscious that his shortcomings reflected on his ability to look after Ciri. Thankfully, Jaskier made a pleased noise and nodded his approval. 

"Sounds delicious. Need a hand with anything?" Jaskier asked, the question holding no challenge or taunt. 

"Nah, I've got it under control. To be honest, you've already helped by keeping Ciri entertained... and indoors," Geralt smiled.

"Tis a princess' duty," Jaskier winked, offering Ciri his hand. "Alright then, Ser Knight. How about you escort me for a tour of my kingdom and show me the royal stable."  
Ciri laughed and pulled Jaskier along towards the front door, but Geralt caught the way his new Manny lingered in the doorway and offered him a disarming smile. Ciri's care aside, Geralt figured he was going to enjoy having Jaskier around.


	7. Chapter 7

Over the next few days, things seemed to go smoothly. Geralt would wake Ciri up in the morning and ask her to get ready while he made breakfast, then Jaskier would join them once he was up and ready too. They would eat together, then Jaskier would take Ciri outside or to the living room for some 'fun' educational tasks until lunch, during which time Geralt had a chance to clean up and get on top of things like shopping, calculating bills or mucking out the stables. After lunch, Jaskier and Ciri would play and Geralt could meal prep for the evening, then maybe join them for some playtime too. And in the evening, they all sat together in the living room, either reading or writing, drawing or playing music. It was peaceful, and Geralt wondered why it had never appealed to him before. 

When he used to picture a domestic family life, he imagined boredom, frustration and cabin-fever... but it was nice to have company, and playing with Ciri reminded him that life could be fun. Somehow, he'd forgotten how to just let go of rational thoughts and enjoy a nonsensical idea. But Jaskier and Ciri were showing him how much fun it could be, how rewarding. 

One evening, a few weeks into his employment, Jaskier had waited until Ciri had gone to bed, then moved over to sit beside Geralt. He was wearing a set of soft cotton pajamas with a light blue plaid, and he was sitting close enough that Geralt could feel the fabric against his bare arm. 

"So, how are you finding everything?" Jaskier asked casually. 

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Geralt smiled, appreciating the fact that Jaskier was actively seeking feedback. Or maybe just checking in... which was oddly comforting. "To be honest, I'm really impressed with your work. You and Ciri get along really well, she's behaving a lot better since you've been here and things have been much more manageable from a housework side of things. I think you're a good fit for our household - I know that sounds stupid but, I just had this horrible feeling that bringing someone into the house would make the place feel less like home. But it doesn't, you fit right in."

Jaskier beamed at the praise, letting himself relax a little in the space beside Geralt. "I'm really glad you feel that way. I'm enjoying my time with Ciri and she's starting to open up to me a little bit about her thoughts and feelings, which is really promising. I know you've both been through a lot lately, so anything I can do to help you heal is something I'd value doing. She's been telling me about her parents, and about all the work you and her mother used to do together... it sounds like you were close."

Geralt wanted to respond but the words lodged in his throat, so he nodded and looked at his hands. In all honesty, he missed them - especially Calanthe. Even though they hadn't been able to spend as much time together when she transferred, she had been a close friend throughout the majority of his adult life. The fact that she was gone had taken a while to sink in, to feel real. He understood that they had both passed away and he understood it on a logical level, but it sometimes caught him off guard when he was doing the most mundane things. Just opening a letter might remind him of Calanthe's distinctive letter formatting, the direct language that he had teased her for when they were training; he was reminded of Eist whenever he saw someone washing their car. And he had to remind himself that they were gone. 

With a sigh, Geralt got up and started to walk away. Jaskier panicked, offering apologies and stating that he'd stepped over a line and it wasn't his place, rambling placations until Geralt opened the drinks cabinet and brought back a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. Jaskier gave a quiet 'oh' and started to settle again as Geralt took his seat beside him.   
"Scotch?" Geralt asked, gesturing with the bottle. 

"Uh... yeah, that would be nice. Not too much though, need to be fresh faced for her highness tomorrow," Jaskier smiled softly, trying to get a read on his stoic employer.   
Geralt poured them both a measure and sat back, letting the alcohol burn out the bitter taste in his mouth. He tried to collect his thoughts, wanting to reassure Jaskier that he was coping, but also wanting to be honest. It wasn't often that someone took an interest in how he was feeling, at least, not how he was really feeling. He didn't want to shut Jaskier out when he had started to show an interest, but it was hard to just lay your life open like that. 

"I miss them a lot," he started quietly, twisting the glass in his hands distractedly. "I mean, Ciri's obviously going to need a lot more of your attention on that front, they were her parents."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean that you can't be upset too," Jaskier reassured, resting a hand on his arm gently. When Geralt didn't pull away, he stroked his thumb over his skin slowly. "You've had your whole life uprooted so that you can provide for your goddaughter, that's bound to be stressful."

"Yeah... It's been a big change. It's better now that you're here, I feel like there's more of a routine. But I miss the office sometimes, and..." he hesitated, not wanting to highlight his flaws to Jaskier but also needing reassurance. He battled with himself for a long moment, trying to decide which option was more beneficial for his mental state. In the end, he figured honesty was the best policy. "And I don't think I'm very good at caring for children."

Jaskier looked at him, surprise evident in his features. That alone was encouraging, but Geralt couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't doing a good enough job of being a parental guardian. Before he could stop himself, the words flowed over his lips and collected in the space between them.

"I don't know how to enforce rules without being too strict, or whether I should be encouraging her to do more educational things until she goes back to school. Hell, I don't know when she should go back to school, or whether I should be asking her to take responsibility for jobs around the house. I don't know how to fix her clothes or braid her hair, I don't know how to cook that many meals and I let her eat junk food even though it's bad for her. I just... I don't know how to do the 'right' thing without being too strict."

"Oh, Geralt," Jaskier started, gripping his arm encouragingly. "You're doing a wonderful job. And trust me, I've been working in childcare for most of my life - I know what I'm talking about when it comes to these things. You always offer her healthy snacks but you allow her to have junk food when it's reasonable, and you get involved in her life a lot more than some parents would. She loves having you involved in our games and she often asks if we can invite you to play. If she asks again, would you want me to come and ask you? I just didn't want to bother you when I'm supposed to be taking care of her so you can work."

Geralt listened, a little encouraged by Jaskier's reassurances. "Yes please, that would actually be nice."

"Alright, we can definitely get you involved more often. As for the rest of the stuff... it takes time. Every child needs a different level of discipline and leniency, so it takes a while to get the balance right. But you're doing just fine. Ciri is safe and knows where the boundaries are; it's natural for kids to bend the rules and test what they can get away with, but you address her behaviour well when she's being cheeky and you're never overly strict."

"That actually means a lot... thank you," Geralt responded, taking another sip of his Scotch. "I've never looked after kids before, so it's just a lot to learn."

"Oh, tell me about it. I'm still learning new things everyday, and I've been doing this for years," Jaskier smiled, nudging Geralt with his shoulder in a playful, reassuring gesture. "As for fixing clothes and braiding hair, I'm sure I could teach you a few things. In fact... I have an idea, if you're willing."

Geralt looked to him with a suspicious glance, but it was mostly in jest. He trusted Jaskier, despite only having known him for a short time. "What are you scheming?"

"Scheming? Good sir, I assure you that I am not scheming. I am simply going to suggest that we surprise Ciri with a fancy tea party tomorrow." Jaskier countered. 

"A tea party?"

Geralt didn't think he'd ever hosted or attended a tea party in his entire life. He knew it was something that young girls were supposed to enjoy, but aside from getting a teapot and some sandwiches, he didn't really know what else was involved. Still, he liked the idea of spending some time with Ciri, and it was a good opportunity to learn something new.   
"Alright, that sounds kind of fun. What do we need?" Geralt asked.

"Well, I'm thinking we could prepare a selection of sandwiches and bake some cupcakes, then we'd just need the teapot that Ciri used to make me tea when I first arrived, and a few teacups. If the weather's good, we could set it up in the garden," Jaskier explained, but Geralt's mind had stuck to one of the requirements.   
"I... don't know how to bake cupcakes," he admitted sheepishly. 

Jaskier looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was serious, but Geralt's avoidant gaze said everything he needed to hear. With a small smirk, Jaskier finished off his Scotch and stood up, offering Geralt a hand. 

"Well then, how about I show you how?"


	8. Chapter 8

By a small miracle, Geralt had the necessary ingredients in the cupboard (though why he had thought to buy flour evaded him now) so Jaskier set to work measuring them all out. While he was busy, Geralt found them both an apron and set the oven to preheat, watching him work so that he could learn the ropes, but also just enjoying this opportunity to spend some time alone with Jaskier. He had been fairly isolated since moving to the lodge and it was a welcome change to have some adult company. 

"Ok, so I usually just make them by the 3-2-1 rule, but seeming as this is your first cupcake baking experience, I've brought a recipe up on the tablet," Jaskier explained, gesturing to the device propped up against the bread bin. "Then I've measured up all the ingredients listed there, so that you can just follow the recipe."

"So that I can follow the recipe?" Geralt clarified, realising that Jaskier was actually going to make him do the work rather than just letting him watch.

"Well, obviously, how else are you going to learn?" Jaskier winked, stepping aside so that Geralt could access the ingredients. 

This shouldn't be difficult, Geralt reasoned. He just had to follow the recipe and it would come out fine. Right? He started with the butter and sugar, using the sieve to make sure it wasn't lumpy, but the recipe mentioned 'creaming them together' and he was immediately lost. When he looked to Jaskier, the Manny just broke into a fit of laughter. 

"Oh good lord, you look like a lost puppy," he wheezed, gripping his arm for support before taking the bowl and showing him how. "Ok, look. You just have to smoosh them together until it turns into a kind of thick creamy consistency. Here."

Jaskier handed the bowl back and Geralt continued the work, surprised by how physical this was. By the time the butter and sugar was thoroughly creamed, he was starting to feel the burn in his arms. He never imagined baking could be such hard work. He added the eggs and flour, looking to Jaskier again when the recipe mentioned 'folding'. He didn't like this whole 'special terms for different types of stirring' nonsense; surely, mixing ingredients was mixing ingredients, end of story. 

"Ok, so we fold ingredients like this," Jaskier explained, showing Geralt how to do it. "This helps to keep air in the mixture so the cupcakes come out nice and fluffy."

"Hm," Geralt acknowledged, accepting the bowl back and finishing up the 'folding'. Strange mixing techniques aside, this wasn't as complex or intimidating as he'd imagined. He held the bowl out as Jaskier added a little vanilla flavouring and mixed it in, feeling oddly proud of their batch of cake dough. "Then into the cupcake case?" 

"Yup, in it goes."

They measured out the mixture between the cups, placing them on the oven tray and popping them into the oven. As Geralt was setting a timer on the tablet, he heard Jaskier doing something behind him but just assumed he had started to clean up the dishes. Instead, as he turned around, he was met with a facefull of flour.

Geralt gasped and coughed when the flour got into his mouth, causing Jaskier to stop and lean close to check he was alright. Capitalising on the opportunity, Geralt reached behind him for a handful of the icing sugar and returned the favour; Jaskier's laughter rang through the air, encouraging Geralt's own laughter as they devolved into a frenzy of powdered retaliation. Geralt could taste flour, sugar and baking powder on his tongue, his eyes squinted against the onslaught of white clouds. Surging forward, he boxed Jaskier in against the counter and planted a flour-covered hand on his face. 

Jaskier made an adorable sound of protest and clutched Geralt's wrist, but didn't push it away. He was still laughing when Geralt removed his hand and was greeted with the sight of Jaskier dishevelled and grinning broadly. He was beautiful. Jaskier's incredible blue eyes met his own and he froze, suddenly aware of the fact that his body was pressed to the younger man’s. Tension hung between them, waiting for someone to do something, to break the spell. 

In the end, Geralt cleared his throat and stepped back, letting Jaskier move away from the counter. "So... how do we... um... how do we make the buttercream?" 

He'd have much rather been asking something along the lines of 'how do you feel about making out on the sofa for a while' but it didn't seem like the right move. He was Jaskier's boss and he didn't want to seem like a pervy rich guy who thought he could buy affection; more than that, he didn't want to make Jaskier feel like he had to reciprocate in order to keep his job. So, instead, he tried to focus on the cakes and the idea of the tea party, saving the memory of the other man's dishevelled smile for when he was alone later that evening. 

So caught up in his own conflict, Geralt missed the way Jaskier's gaze drifted over his powder-coated chest before returning to their baking.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, while Jaskier was keeping Ciri busy with a walk through the woods, Geralt set up the tea party as a surprise for when she got home. He had to pull the patio furniture out of the shed and clean it off (having a few spiders attend the party didn't seem like the best plan), then he covered the table in a white tablecloth so that it looked a little more sophisticated. He laid out the teacups on delicate little saucers and placed the cakes on a matching plate in the center, alongside a tray of assorted sandwiches; he'd made an effort to keep Ciri's favourites (ham, cheese and chicken slices) on one side, while the more 'adult' sandwiches (coronation chicken, salmon and a few bacon & brie) were kept on Geralt and Jaskier's side. Standing back to admire his work, Geralt nodded and went to boil the kettle for their tea. 

He came back out into the garden, just in time to see Ciri and Jaskier rounding the corner of the house. His goddaughter's eyes widened, her mouth falling open a little in wonder as she took in the little tea party, and Geralt felt something melt in his chest. This made the effort worth it. Seeing her happy, after everything she had been though... it made him feel like he was doing a good job, that he was giving her a decent life. 

"Welcome back, Ciri. I hope you're hungry," Geralt greeted, placing the teapot on the table. "Ah, ah, before you sit down. Go and wash your hands - you don't know what kind of toxins or pesticides might be on your skin."

Ciri huffed a melodramatic sigh but turned towards the house, following as Jaskier went to do the same. Geralt took a seat and waited for them, pouring out a cup of tea each. Some distant part of him felt like he should find this embarrassing, that he shouldn't feel so natural at a little girl's tea party... but that was something the old Geralt would have thought. Now, having looked after Ciri for a few weeks, he was starting to understand that there was nothing in the world he wouldn't do to make Ciri happy. There was nothing embarrassing about preparing a nice surprise for his goddaughter, and anyone who might think to tease him would get a very severe beating for it. 

"Did you make these?" Ciri asked, gesturing to the cupcakes as she took her seat.

"Yep, made them last night so they should still be nice and fresh," Geralt explained, offering her the sandwich tray first as a subtle reminder to eat her meal before dessert. "Jaskier showed me how."

"Well, I helped a little bit, but it was mostly Geralt," Jaskier countered, accepting a few sandwiches from the plate when Geralt held it out to him. 

"They look so good!" Ciri praised, arranging the triangle sandwiches in a little row on her plate. "Is it someone's birthday?"

Geralt chuckled softly, adding a sugar cube to Ciri's tea for her. "No, it's no-one's birthday. We just thought it would be a nice surprise if we all had a tea party together. I've never been invited to one before."

Ciri nodded slightly, seeming to take this information in and coming to some sort of conclusion about it all. She nibbled contemplatively on a sandwich for a moment and Geralt tried to figure out what she was giving so much thought to; he glanced at Jaskier, but the Manny just shrugged, equally clueless. After a long moment, Ciri spoke her mind.   
"It's because you only have two brothers and no sisters, right? Because boys don't usually like tea parties... even though they should," Ciri reasoned, sounding very matter-of-fact about the whole affair. "And none of us have Mums to have tea parties with, so we need to have them together instead."

This new insight made Geralt stop and look at Ciri for a moment, he was simultaneously surprised by the information she'd just given him about Jaskier, but also by the fact that she had been able to reference her mother's passing without tears. It was the first time Geralt had heard her mention her parents outside of a crying spell, which seemed like a positive step forward. But he had to be careful, he didn't want to risk triggering any unhappy thoughts or pushing the topic too far. 

"I suppose you're right," he answered amiably, sipping his own tea while he tried to think of a way to handle this delicately. "It just means that you'll have to teach us how to do it properly. We have the tea and the cakes, what else do people usually do at tea parties?"

Geralt caught sight of Jaskier's look of relief from the corner of his eye and smiled, he understood how delicate that kind of topic could be. Even if Jaskier had confided something to Ciri about his parents, it didn't mean that he would be ready to share that information with Geralt... at least, not yet. Geralt liked to hope that he and Jaskier might grow closer over the following months, that they might at least become firm friends... even if nothing else was on the cards. Although, a selfish part of him hoped that there might be an opportunity for more. 

"Hm, I think girls usually gossip about boys," Ciri giggled, hiding her face with a childish bashfulness that seemed worlds apart from her usual confidence. "But I guess we can talk about girls too, if you want."

"No need, I happen to like men too," Geralt answered, realising too late that this was probably a big thing to admit right in front of his goddaughter and his (crush) child-minder. Panic surged through him and he had to resist the urge to excuse himself and leave. "I mean...I... "

"That makes three of us then," Jaskier intervened, saving Geralt from a self-inflicted scolding and sparking a little hope in the ex-solicitor's chest. "Unless you happen to like girls, Ciri. Which would be completely ok, if you did."

Ciri made a sound like she was considering the option, but she shrugged slightly and reached for a cupcake while the adults were distracted by the topic. "I don't really like boys or girls yet. I just like having friends."

"Friends are important too, especially at your age. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll know more about what you like when you're older," Jaskier encouraged, downplaying the conversation to a casual tone, which Geralt was unendingly grateful for. But when Ciri wasn't looking, Jaskier sent Geralt a small smile - a smile that seemed to say 'it's ok. You're safe with me'. 

Geralt tried not to let his hopes get the better of him. Just because Jaskier also happened to like men, didn't necessarily mean that he was interested in Geralt. Age difference aside, Jaskier was attractive and confident, talented and sweet... and Geralt was a washed out old lawyer who struggled to communicate his feelings. Jaskier could do better... But Geralt could still hope, right?

"Speaking of friends, Jaskier's been telling me about the other kids you've been talking to at the library," Geralt pushed forward, clinging to the change in conversation focus. "How are you getting on with everyone?"

"They're pretty cool. Dara's mum said that I can visit them on the weekend and maybe sleep over if that's ok?" Ciri asked, giving him wide puppy eyes. 

Geralt was glad to hear that she was making new friends, and a selfish part of him was thankful for an opportunity to spend some time alone with Jaskier. "Sure, I'll just need to have a chat with Dara's parents and get their details, and we can drop you off whenever you like." 

Ciri grinned and finished off her cupcake, then she reached for the cake tray and offered one to Geralt and Jaskier, in a feeble attempt to mask the fact that she was taking a second one for herself. Not that Geralt had any intention of stopping her.

"Thanks, Geralt. Dara's dad is a tree surgeon, which means that-"

The rest of the tea party flowed smoothly, with Ciri prattling on about her new friends and the adventures that they had been on (under Jaskier's supervision). It felt nice, just spending time together as a unit and getting to know a little more about each other. All the while, Geralt snuck side glances at Jaskier, wondering if maybe there might be a chance for them in the future.


	10. Chapter 10

After the information shared at the tea party, Geralt found it harder and harder to keep himself from watching fondly after Jaskier; when they were out walking together through the woods, when Jaskier was playing with Ciri or when he was sat quietly by himself in the evenings, writing poetry or epic tales. He was so... positive, without being intolerably chipper. Unlike the lawyers and solicitors that Geralt had spent a lifetime with, stressing over high pressure cases or fighting each other for promotions, Jaskier seemed to waltz through the world with a kind of awareness and appreciation that Geralt had been missing in his life. He stopped to smell the wildflowers that grew along the border of the garden and encouraged Ciri to think of adjectives to describe the scents, he found beauty in the beams of sunlight that painted themselves over the ridged log-cabin walls. He saw the world around him without distraction, and Geralt admired him for that. 

Granted, he would admit that Jaskier's appearance also had something to do with his interest. Geralt's heart skipped faster in his chest when Jaskier pitched a cheeky little smile his way, or when the Manny turned those deep, puppyish eyes his way. Geralt liked the sturdiness of him, the reassuring breadth of his chest and shoulders, the solid foundations that he seemed to be built from. Even his hands, so strong and well-worked, turned into things of beauty when he was playing his lute or sketching in the back garden.  
In short, Geralt had it bad. 

Of course, it didn't help that morning when Geralt had come back after dropping Ciri off at Dara’s and had caught sight of Jaskier walking between the bathroom and his bedroom in nothing but a hand towel. After that, he had made his excuses and all but fled to the stables. As long as he was working, he could distract himself, and maybe work out some of the physical energy that the sight had given him. He would definitely not think about the way water seemed to crystalise over his skin, giving him an ethereal quality, or the way his hair hung about his face in cute curls. Dishevelled. Hot...

Roach whickered at him and Geralt sighed, straightening up to look at her, "Alright, I get your point. But there's not exactly a lot I can do about it."  
Sooner or later, Jaskier was going to notice his attention, especially after the tension between them when they'd been baking. But he couldn't just switch his feelings off... especially now, when he was feeling lost and in need of some support. He just had to hope that Jaskier would appreciate his professionalism and wouldn't leave as a result of Geralt's crush. 

He didn't dare to reason that maybe, just maybe, Jaskier might like him too. He didn't linger on the thought, quickly pushing it away so that it couldn't grow roots and turn into a hope, only to be destroyed when Jaskier inevitably stated that he wasn’t interested. So, Geralt focused on his task, burning his energy as effectively as he could by mucking out and laying fresh hay in the stables. 

Only, he wasn't alone. 

It took a while for him to notice, but he gradually began to feel like he was being watched. Standing up, Geralt wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand and removed the work gloves so that he could push his hair back out of his eyes. As he did, a low appreciative whistle sounded from the courtyard. Geralt jumped and turned to the source of the noise, finding Jaskier sprawled across the top of the picnic table with a sketchbook spread out beneath him. Geralt blushed a little as Jaskier less than subtly gave him a once over. He was sweaty, his plain grey t-shirt sticking to his skin and his hair wavy with the heat... but Jaskier didn't seem to mind. 

"So, this is where you went running off to," Jaskier chimed, drawing himself back into a sitting position before swinging his long legs around to dangle over the edge of the table. "You know, usually, when I make a point of walking out of a room in nothing but a napkin, people tend to follow me. Not run away... did I offend you?"

The question was posed as a joke, but Geralt could hear the vulnerability hidden beneath. Jaskier wasn't sure of his employer's feelings and was scared that he may have gone too far, that his job may be at risk or that he might get in trouble. At least, Geralt assumed as much, judging by the way he continued to swing his legs restlessly as he awaited an answer. But Geralt was struggling to form a coherent sentence as he considered the implications behind Jaskier's actions. The little towel had been intentional, and Jaskier had wanted him to follow. Which meant…

"No, not offended, just... surprised," Geralt tried to explain, still reeling from the new information. "I wasn't sure you thought of me like that."

The deadpan look fired Geralt's way was enough to bring a hot flush to his cheeks, had he really been so oblivious? Now that he thought about it, Jaskier hadn't really pulled away when they had gotten close during their baking, and he often sat directly beside Geralt when they were together in the evenings, their thighs sometimes accidentally brushing against each other as they adjusted their position. Or maybe it hadn't been an accident. Christ, he'd been an idiot. 

"Is the penny starting to drop now, love?" Jaskier asked, a smirk fighting its way to his lips. Hopping off of the bench, he approached the empty stable stall and leaned against the doorframe. "If you don't feel the same way, I'll understand. And it won't impact on my work here with Ciri, I just-"

"I like you too," Geralt blurted. 

Jaskier's expression softened and he stepped closer, reaching out to press a hand to Geralt's chest, "Good."

And then Jaskier's lips were on his, soft but firm. Geralt made a quiet sound of appreciation, blindly trying to prop the pitchfork against the wall so that he could slip an arm around Jaskier's waist and pull him close. The younger man gasped against Geralt's lips, renewing the kiss with a fresh passion. Geralt followed his lead, parting his lips to Jaskier's tongue, offering up quiet groans as dexterous hands worked their way into his long hair. 

Fuck this felt good. It had been too long since he'd shared this kind of intimacy with anyone, and longer still since that physical attention had come with sentiment or genuine feelings attached. Turning them clumsily, Geralt pinned him against the wall, earning a low moan from kiss-bruised lips. As Jaskier draped his arms over Geralt’s shoulders, he nipped and teased at his lips, grinding his hips ever so slightly to draw out more breathless groans. Geralt could already feel Jaskier's excitement pressing into his hip, and he would be lying if he claimed that he wasn't in a similar situation, but the stable was too public, too dirty...

"Want to take this elsewhere?" Geralt asked, smirking. 

Jaskier all but keened at the question, wiggling his hips mischievously against Geralt's growing erection. "Depends. You got lube in your room, or should we take this back to mine?"

The question sent fire coursing through Geralt's veins, possibilities projecting themselves into his mind. Geralt growled playfully and pinned Jaskier harder to the wall, grinding firmly against him and earning the most beautiful mewl of desperation that Geralt had ever heard. He wanted to find out how Jaskier would sound when he came, he wanted to watch his carefully composed sentences degrade into a rambling mess of pleas. More than that, he wanted to hear the names Jaskier would call him in the heat of the moment, to compare them to the softer names he might give when they were sated and hazy. 

"Your room it is," Geralt agreed, stepping back a little. 

Jaskier pouted a little, upset by the loss of contact but Geralt was a step ahead of him. Crouching slightly, Geralt quickly hoisted Jaskier up over his shoulder, carrying him from the stable as the excitable man waxed lyrical about his 'big strong lover'.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahoy, there be heavy smut ahead ;p

Pushing the door open with his foot, Geralt kicked it closed behind them and locked it before dropping Jaskier onto the bed. The doe-eyed bard bounced for a moment as the mattress settled, dark eyes fixed hungrily on Geralt as the ex-lawyer peeled his tight t-shirt off and discarded it somewhere near the bed. He had been on the verge of making a comment about his physique, but Geralt was already crawling up the bed to pin him down and the words were lost beneath an eager stream of moans and panting breaths. 

Jaskier's strong hands roamed over Geralt's chest, committing every curve and line to memory as his lips trailed a path from Geralt's lips to his throat. Geralt shivered, tipping his head a little so that Jaskier had better access. Sensing a weakness, Jaskier rolled them and setto work nipping and sucking along Geralt's throat, raising hickies in his wake; Geralt melted under the attention, moans spilling freely from his lips. He ran his hand into Jaskier's hair, keeping him close and revelling in the soft approving noises that the bard made whenever Geralt tightened his grip and pulled slightly. 

"You make the best noises when I tease you like this," Jaskier commented, his voice husky with lust. 

The praise sent heat rising to Geralt's cheeks and he subconsciously brought his free hand up to hide his face. His pants already felt tight and Jaskier's confident hands were dancing just close enough to his hips to be a tease but not close enough to give him any relief. He rolled his hips slightly, trying to ask for what he needed when the words failed to form on his tongue. 

"Jaskier..." he groaned, reluctantly guiding him away from his love-bruised neck. He needed to be able to focus if he was going to form a coherent question in his mind, but it was important. "Top or bottom?"

It was the best he could manage while he was distracted like this, but Jaskier didn't seem too put out by the direct line of enquiry. He smirked and leaned in close, capturing Geralt's lips in a slow, seductive kiss before offering his answer. 

"I get a choice?" He raised a brow, seemingly surprised by Geralt's openness to being on the bottom. 

"Sure... wouldn't be my first time either way," Geralt admitted, fingers toying with the hem of Jaskier's shirt. 

"Mm, remind me to take you up on that sometime. I like the idea of that," Jaskier practically purred, nipping at Geralt's lip. "But I've already made myself all clean for you... like I said, I was sort of expecting you to follow me after my shower."

Geralt's blush deepened, the possibilities unravelling before them. He hummed happily and pulled Jaskier into a kiss, breaking away just long enough to remove Jaskier's shirt and work his belt open. Jaskier moved elegantly, sitting back on his haunches so that he could work his way out of his pants and boxers, pumping himself distractedly as Geralt's eyes fixed greedily on the sight of him. Fuck, he was beautiful. Strong bulk hidden beneath soft curves, his skin covered in a thick hatch of hair that Geralt found entrancing - he was mascuine but pretty, strong but gentle. A whole collection of contradictions all gathered into one man... and Geralt loved that about him. 

"Want me to give you a little show while I prep?" Jaskier asked, wriggling his hips slowly against Geralt's.

But Geralt shook his head slightly and reached for Jaskier's hand, encouraging him to move up closer, "No. I want you to sit on my fucking face so I can work you open myself."

The words had their desired affect, flooding colour to Jaskier's chest and neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. He nodded slightly, climbing off of Geralt so that he could get comfortable, propping himself up with a pillow before reaching for Jaskier. The bard settled himself into position, bracing his hands against the wall as Geralt set about the task of opening Jaskier up with his tongue. He took his time, teasing kitten-licks over his hole before slowly pressing his tongue deeper. Geralt hummed contently, letting the subtle vibration of the sound play along Jaskier's skin as he gradually worked him open. All the while, Jaskier whined and gasped softly, his body occasionally shaking as he resisted the urge to buck into the touch. 

"Geralt," Jaskier groaned, one hand pumping himself in lazy, languid strokes as Geralt reduced him to a quivering mess. 

Satisfied that Jaskier was good and loose, Geralt patted his thigh and encouraged him to move off. Jaskier huffed a little sound of disappointment but did as he was urged, kneeling at his side while Geralt sat up and considered the best way to proceed. He pulled the pillow down the bed a little way, then pulled Jaskier close, nuzzling and kissing along his throat. 

"How do you want to..." Geralt started, not really sure how to put his questions into words. "I mean, how would you feel most comfortable?"

Jaskier smiled softly, cupping Geralt's cheek and guiding him into a sweet kiss, "You're adorable. You know that? Here..."

Settling himself face-down on the mattress, Jaskier propped his hips up with the pillow and braced his weight on his arms so that he would be able to move a little with Geralt. He reached over to the bedside table and took the bottle of lube from inside, passing it to Geralt and winking cheekily. 

"Don't tease me too much," he smirked. 

Geralt chuckled softly and took the bottle, positioning himself behind Jaskier and pouring a little onto his fingers. He tested one finger slowly, teasing it into Jaskier slightly before drawing back, spreading the lube thickly. He was probably being a little over-generous with it, but he figured it was better to have too much than not enough; he didn't want to risk hurting Jaskier. Christ, why was he so nervous? Adding a second finger, Geralt pressed deeper; he could feel Jaskier's body adjusting around his touch, fingertips reaching for his prostate and rubbing over it slowly. 

As he did, Jaskier whined and buried his face in the bedsheets, fists gathering in the fabric. 

"Holy shit, your fingers feel good," Jaskier groaned, bearing back against his touch. "I'm... I'm ready for more. Please."

Geralt chuckled softly at the pleading in Jaskier's voice, slowly drawing his fingers out and leaning low to press a kiss to his lower back.

"Alright, since you asked so nicely," he chuckled, shifting his weight so that he could strip off.

Jaskier turned slightly so that he would watch, eyes fixing hungrily on Geralt as he knelt back and removed his shirt - chest muscles rippling with the movement and his abs defined jus enough that the bard wanted to run his tongue over the subtle lines between. Giving a low wolf whistle, Jaskier bit his lower lip and held back a laugh as he watched Geralt's cheeks burn up with the attention. He stood up to undo his belt, slowly pushing the fabric over his narrow hips and letting his jeans and boxers drop to the floor in one fluid motion. Jaskier raised a brow, simultaneously enthralled and a little intimidated by the size of him. 

"How in the fuck are you still single with a cock like that?" Jaskier asked, adding more fire to the blush in Geralt's cheeks. 

"Guess not many people want to get close enough to find out what's in my pants," Geralt shrugged, crawling back up the bed and pressing close so that he could kiss his newfound partner. "Do you want more prep?"

"I should be ok, just go slow."

Geralt nodded and waited for Jaskier to get comfortable, keeping his body close as he lined himself up and slowly pressed into him. He stilled his hips when Jaskier gasped, giving him a moment to adjust before pressing a little deeper. Jaskier focused on keeping himself relaxed, reaching for Geralt's hand and linking their fingers as his body loosened up around the intrusion. When Geralt drew back and rolled his hips deeper, Jaskier groaned loudly, squeezing his hand to stay grounded.

"Oh, fuck me, that feels good," he rambled, bracing his weight so that he could rock his hips back to meet Geralt's thrusts. 

Geralt tried to respond but the words caught in his throat, his mind consumed by the feel of Jaskier's tight hole around his cock. It had been way too long since he'd felt this kind of connection with someone, and it was all he could do to keep from chasing his own pleasure selfishly. But he focused on the soft cries and low groans that he was earning from his lover, trying to find a rhythm that drew them out loudest. He knew he was doing something right when Jaskier whined and bucked back harder, his hand disengaging from Geralt's in favour of reaching back and gripping at his hair. Geralt practically growled at the added sensation, pressing his weight into Jaskier's solid form and letting himself get lost in the pleasure. 

"Geralt, please! I need... fuck, a little more," Jaskier pleaded, his back arching a little as he tried to angle his hips just right. 

Taking the hint, Geralt sat back a little and took hold of Jaskier's hips; he angled himself deeper, thrusting a little harder, a little faster, as Jaskier fell to pieces beneath him. He was close, and judging by the way that Jaskier trembled beneath him, his lover was too. Jaskier's moans broke into a series of heightening cries, each louder than the last before he tensed and gave a choked cry as he came. As his body tightened around Geralt and Jaskier's cries sent fresh fire through Geralt's skin, he was powerless to resist his own climax.He followed close on Jaskier's heels, a low, graveled groan breaking from his chest as his hips stuttered into his lover. 

Carefully pulling out, Geralt dropped onto the mattress beside Jaskier and pulled him close, nuzzling into his hair as they both tried to catch their breath. He could have stayed there forever, just listening to Jaskier's sated little hums and sighs, feeling his clever fingertips dancing a tattoo over his chest. He couldn't remember feeling this calm and contented for a very long time... it felt good.

"Congratulations, you are officially the best fuck that I've ever had," Jaskier announced, smirking. 

Geralt chuckled breathlessly, squeezing his lover in a gentle hug, "Looks like we're joint title-holders then."

Jaskier grinned and nuzzled against his neck, just breathing him in. But something was clearly playing on his mind, and Geralt had an inkling as to what it might be. Sure, they'd just been intimate together, but they hadn't actually discussed what this meant for them. Whether they would be exclusive, whether this was a relationship or just a sexual arrangement... and Geralt sincerely hoped that they could have that former option.

"So, does this make you my boyfriend?" Geralt asked, his heart picking up pace in his chest despite his efforts to sound casual. 

If Jaskier just wanted this to be a casual thing, then he could deal with that. But it didn't stop him from hoping.When Jaskier leaned back a little to look at him, his expression was difficult to read. It was like he was searching for something in Geralt's features... but he smiled timidly and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"Is that something you'd want with me?"

"Yes," Geralt answered, without hesitation. 

Apparently, this had been the right answer because Jaskier broke into a grin and snaked his arms around Geralt so that he could cuddle him tightly. His body fit so nicely against Geralt's; just the right height to match him, not so small or slender that the muscular lawyer would worry about hurting him. It felt right.

"I want that too," Jaskier confirmed, shifting a little to press his forehead to Geralt's and kiss him sweetly. Whatever happened from here on out, Geralt felt like he could face it. As long as he had Jaskier at his side, the world didn't seem so hostile. He would learn how to be a better father to Ciri, would learn to settle into a life that didn't revolve around his work, and maybe he would even be able to build a new life with a loving partner at his side


	12. Chapter 12

Over the following weeks, an easy domesticity settled over the lodge. Geralt had sat Ciri down later that day to explain that he and Jaskier were going to be dating, but that Jaskier would still be living with them and working as her child minder. Thankfully, Ciri seemed to take this well, smirking slightly as she informed Geralt that she had already known that this was going to happen.

Day by day, they carved a new life for themselves. Geralt developed more confidence in his ability to care for his godchild, and used his free time to learn a few helpful skills like sewing and broadening his culinary repertoire. Ciri gradually settled into her new 'normal' and started to speak more openly with Jaskier about her parents. To help her along in her recovery, Geralt took her to a therapist once a week and occasionally participated when asked, so that Ciri could find healthy ways to cope with her grief and adjust to her new life. Things were going well, and Ciri eventually agreed that she was ready to return to school.

Her first day at the new school was a flurry of mixed excitement and anxiety. Ciri was worried about not knowing anyone, but Jaskier assured her that he'd spoken to the school and made sure that she would be in the same class as the girl from the neighbourhood that she'd been playing with recently. He could be heard giving her little pep talks as he helped her to get ready, packing her bag with her and promising that they would come and get her if she felt overwhelmed and needed to come home.

Geralt listened in as he made up Ciri's packed lunch, ensuring that she had a surplus of her favourite snacks, just to help the day go by a little smoother. He remembered seeing something cute on TV once regarding lunchboxes and he searched around for a sticky note pad so that he could leave her a note. Making sure that she was otherwise distracted and wouldn't notice, he wrote out:  
[Ciri, me and Jaskier are so proud of you. Keep at it, we know you'll do amazing work. Love, Geralt]

It was just a simple little thing, but it felt good to write it. To communicate his feelings with Ciri, even if it was just in writing. Jaskier had been trying to encourage him to vocalise his thoughts and emotions more in front of Ciri, to help her to feel welcomed into his life and to reassure her that she was loved. Sometimes it was difficult, given his history and his upbringing, but he was trying and it felt right. It felt like he was building a new kind of life for himself, and it was a welcome change from his old loneliness and stress.

Putting the lunchbox in her bag, Geralt helped her work through a final checklist before ushering her towards the door so that she could wait for the school bus. She had her lunchbox, her books, her phone in case she needed to contact them, and a pencil case fully equipped with an assortment of scented gel pens and stationary. Before heading out of the door, Ciri hesitated, then ran back and gestured for Geralt to crouch down. Confused, Geralt did as he was beckoned and felt his heart melt when Ciri planted a kiss on his cheek.

"I'll see you later, Dad."

With that, she ran for the bus stop... and Geralt watched after her with tears forming in his eyes. She had called him 'Dad'. Suddenly, every insecurity that he had been harbouring about his ability to care for her was demolished; every uncertainty he had about Ciri enjoying her new life with him was disproved. She had called him 'Dad'.

"Did you put her up to that?" Geralt asked Jaskier quietly, not daring to raise his voice any more for fear of it cracking.

"Nope... that was all Ciri," Jaskier confirmed, beaming happily. He slipped an arm around Geralt's waist and nuzzled his cheek affectionately. "How does it feel?"

"Good," was all that Geralt would bring himself to say, the feelings of pride, sentiment and love all merging into a complex mixture in his chest. "Real good." 

"Guess you won't need me helping out as much, huh?" Jaskier asked, and Geralt caught the slightest touch of insecurity claiming territory in Jaskier's tone. Turning to him and pulling him into a tight hug, Geralt tried to settle his thoughts into coherent lines. 

"Oh trust me, I'm still going to need your help. You're not getting away from me that easily. But... I had been thinking about it recently and I wanted to make you a proposition."

Jaskier frowned a little and looked to Geralt, uncertainty in his gaze. 

"I know we talked about you wanting to get your qualifications at some point... I was wondering whether you'd like me to fund that for you. You would still be able to live here with me and Ciri, and I can cover costs and provide our main income, but if you wanted to work with another family once you were qualified, then you could do that and come home to us in the evenings..."

Jaskier considered this for a long moment, seeming to repeat the words a few times in his mind before they started to make sense. He tilted his head slightly, a question waiting on the tip of his tongue, but uncertainty making him hesitate. After a moment, he braved it.

"Are you asking me to move in with you? Like, as your boyfriend instead of your child-minder?"

"I guess I am..." Geralt answered, heat starting to rise to his cheeks.

He knew that it was fast and that they had only been together for a few weeks... but it felt right. They knew that they enjoyed living together and that they got along in close quarters, but it would take some of the obligation out of the equation and would allow Jaskier to pursue his ambitions. Besides, it also took the strange power imbalance out of their relationship and would settle Geralt's doubts about Jaskier only sticking around because he was being paid to. He didn't mind covering the bills and outgoings, given his retirement package and the amount he earned on ad hoc cases (which he would be able to take on more often now that Ciri was in school), so it seemed like a good solution all around. It would just depend on whether Jaskier felt the same way.

"Well?" Geralt asked, butterflies swarming in his stomach. "What do you think?"

Before Geralt knew what was happening, Jaskier's lips were on his own, strong arms winding their way around his neck as he was pulled into a tight embrace. He laughed softly and spun Jaskier around, feeling some of the panic leaving him.

"I take it that's a yes?" he asked, wanting to be sure.

"Yes! A hundred times yes," Jaskier grinned, nuzzling Geralt's cheek. "Are you sure though? I mean, those courses aren't cheap. I could pay towards them with the amount I've earned and-"

Geralt cut him off with another kiss, keeping him close. "Hey, no, stop. I'm paying and that's that. You've done so much for me over the last few weeks and I want to do this for you. Please."

"Thank you," Jaskier murmured, burying his face in Geralt's neck as he tried to process everything that was happening. "This means a lot to me... You have on idea."

But Geralt thought that he might have a slight inkling about how much it meant. It meant a lot to him too. After decades of chasing a career and spending his energy on other people, it was gratifying to be able to satisfy his own needs and desires. And if part of that desire manifested in the need to spoil Jaskier absolutely rotten, then so be it.


End file.
